


hello heart, hello home

by izzyasavestheday (stilessexual)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 05:05:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3923950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilessexual/pseuds/izzyasavestheday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison never dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hello heart, hello home

**Author's Note:**

> this monstrosity has been sitting in my drafts for nearly a year. unbeta'd and all that jazz. i am so sorry.

_~_

_Nine years ago._

_Sarah furiously gnawed on her gum, and highlighted an entire passage in her book. It was an endearingly redundant habit of hers, one that Allison was inexplicably fond of. “I’d be okay with it, you know? Being in a class full of Neanderthals if it weren’t for the fact that the professor is also a racist, sexist, misogynistic piece of shit.”_

_Allison snorted into her coffee. “You could always drop the class. I know Richardson is giving the same section next semester.”_

_“And let them win? Over my mangled, cold, rotting corpse. You hear me, Tomas?”_

_Allison shrugged daintily. “I could always, uh, take care of him for you.”_

_Sarah paused over the passage she was currently highlighting and looked up at Allison ever so slowly. Allison kept up her careful poker face until Sarah’s eyes widened and they both burst into loud, happy laughter._

_“Oh, my god.” Sarah giggled. “Your face was ridiculous.”_

_“Ah, man.” Allison wiped her eyes. “I believed myself for a second there.”_

_“Oh, my god.” Sarah repeated. “Coffee refill?”_

_“I’ll get it.”_

_Allison was still laughing to herself, until someone turned and smacked into her, spilling their too-sweet cold drink all over her._

_“Shit,” she huffed, in too good of a mood to be anything but a teensy bit resigned. She didn’t even bother to shake out her shirt, she felt the cold of the drink seep into her bra and thanked whatever deity that had her wear black that day. She looked up at the stupefied man. He was starting at her, open-mouthed and unfairly gorgeous._

_“I’m sorry,” he finally croaked. His voice was a lot softer than she expected. “God, I’m so sorry.”_

_She smiled, confused and a bit alarmed at his distress. “It’s okay. It happens.” She licked her lips experimentally. “Huh. White chocolate? Wouldn’t have taken you for someone with such an intense sweet tooth.”_

_He swapped a hand across his face, and laughed shakily. “Did I say I was sorry? Because I’m sorry.”_

_She grinned. “Worst things have happened to much better people.”_

_“Can I buy you –I mean, do you mind if I pay for your drink? It’s the least I can do after.” He gestured helplessly to Allison. She laughed, delighted._

_“Sure.” She replied. “I’m Allison. Allison Tomas, by the way.”_

_His expression softened. “Jacob Hale.”_

_“Jacob.” She tasted the name on her mouth. Like his white chocolate latte, it didn’t fit the way she thought it would. He was lying. She didn’t know how she knew but she couldn’t bring herself to judge him for it. “Are you a student here?”_

_“Student?” he laughed. “At Chapel Hill, you mean? No. I’m visiting a friend. Are you?”_

_She nodded. He nodded along with her. He looked at her like he’d never seen something like her before._

_“What’re you studying?”_

_“Criminal Forensics,” she replied. “Or I will be, after I can get all of my pre-reqs out of the way. Still a freshman.”_

_“And are you happy?”_

_She frowned at his question. He cleared his throat roughly._

_“I mean, are you happy with the program?”_

_She nodded slowly._

_“Jacob, is there something on my face?”_

_He smiled softly, “No. Why do you ask?”_

_“Because you keep staring at me.”_

_He handed her drink, let his fingers linger ever so slightly against hers, and grinned ruefully at his shoes. “It was nice meeting you, Allison Tomas.”_

_“You too?”_

_He walked backward, toothy grin still in place._

_“I’m glad you’re happy. Have a good life.”_

_Between one blink, and the next, he was gone._

~

“Director Ramos!”

The small woman halted her quick stride and looked up to the heavens with a resigned expression. “Agent Tomas, I didn’t know you were back.”

Allison grinned wide, despite the ache in her bones. The last 72 hours consisted of bad coffee, too hot Florida weather, and a spree murder who swore up and down that his fucking dog told him to do it.

Tonight, Allison wouldn’t sleep.

Tonight all she would think of are the mangled bodies and the crazed laugh of the man who so carelessly murdered them. Tonight, she’d clutch the necklace that was all she had left of her father and she’d will away the darkness inside of her.

But it wasn’t night yet, and Allison still had a few more hours in her.

“Yeah, just got back.” Allison pulled her too long hair into a ponytail. She felt the sticky recycled air of the airplane like a layer of dirt on her skin; she ached for a shower and a glass of wine. Or five, she thought, as her back cracked loudly.  “I was wondering about my next assignment, had a few suggestions.”

The Director blinked at her from behind thick glasses.

Allison went on, slowly. “One suggestion, actually. Just the one.”

“Next assignment?” The Director pushed up her glasses and tightly pressed the bridge of her nose. “Agent, you just got back from a spree murder case. You need a good meal, rest, and possibly a psych eval. Actually go ahead with that psych eval.”

Allison blinked.

“I’m serious,” the Director pressed. “Psych eval. That’s an order.”  

“I’ll get rest, ma’am, but hear me out. I’d like to investigate the Beacon Hills murders—

Director Ramos snorted and picked up her quick stride again. “Are you kidding, Agent? Those are cold cases, and everyone knows that. There is literally nothing to work off of. Nothing.”

“I can crack it. Or, I can make a dent in them.”  

Director Annabelle Ramos was young –too young, most people thought. At 35 years old, she was the youngest Director in the history of the FBI. She was good, and she recognized good when she saw it.  

At 27, Allison Thomas was so very good.

“I don’t want one of my best agents wasting away god knows where,” Annabelle sighed heavily. Her curly, curly hair was slowly escaping its bun –Allison blinked back the ridiculously strong sense of Déjà vu and grinned at the resignation in the Director’s voice.

“I won’t disappoint you, ma’am.”

Annabelle smiled softly, smoothing out the tired lines in her too-young face. “You never do, Allison. Go to Beacon Hills, and be kind.”

Allison quirked a brow in question.

“The new sheriff is young and a bit prickly.”

“How young are we talking?”

“Like, _you_ young.”

Allison grinned brilliantly.  

Annabelle sighed heavily, like the weight of the entire world was on her tiny shoulders.  “I expect your report on the Florida spree murder on my desk in the morning. Now that you got your way, kindly get the hell out of my face.”  

~

_Eight years ago._

_“Professor Rodriguez,” Allison quickened her pace to keep up with the man. “I know you said you’d only talk to students during office hours—_

_“That’s exactly what I said,” the man snapped. “I deserve a little time to myself.”_

_“Yes, totally, I completely agree.”Allison nodded furiously. “But I am asking, no I am begging, that you reconsider—_

_“Absolutely not,” he snapped. She threw her hands up._

_“You don’t even know what I was going to ask!”_

_“And I don’t care!”_

_She watched him hurry away, and stifled shrieking in the middle of campus. God, she hated that man and his stupid class and his stupid, stupid grading system and—_

_She saw something that made her body pause in surprise, her brain frantically trying to figure out why. The man was busy arguing with someone on the other end of his phone. Allison took a few steps forward; there was something ever so familiar about the broadness of his shoulders._

_“Lydia,” he started and stopped. He paused to listen to the other person, Lydia, before huffing out an angry breath. “Last time won’t happen again, I pro—_

_Inexplicably, he paused, took a deep breath and whirled around to face her._

_Allison blinked. “Jacob, right? God, I knew I recognized you from somewhere.”_

_He opened his mouth and closed it. Suddenly, she felt really young._

_“Oh,” she laughed. “You probably don’t even remember me. Allison. Allison Tomas. We met in a coffee shop, almost a year ago.”_

_He continued to stare at her._

_“You spilled your drink all over me? No?” she laughed softly. “Right. Sorry to bother you.”_

_She turned to walk away. He muttered a quick goodbye and jogged the few steps ‘till he was in front of her._

_“Hi,” he held up both hands. “I remember you; you just caught me off guard.”_

_“You don’t have to—_

_“Allison Tomas,” he interrupted. “You’re studying Criminal Forensics, and you took your coffee black. That’s all I’ve got.”_

_It didn’t make sense, the way her heart got all achy-sweet at the fact that he remembered her._

_“How’ve you been?”_

_“Good,” she replied brightly. “Great.”_

_“Happy?”_

_She frowned. “You asked that last time.”_

_Allison’s eyes flickered helplessly to his too-broad shoulders when he shrugged. He repeated his question. “Are you happy?”_

_She paused. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m happy.”_

_Jacob’s phone began ringing. He grinned at her, toothy and sweet. “I really have to go. It was a pleasure seeing you again.”_

_And just like that, he was gone again._

_~_

Allison woke up with the sun.

She did it because her body ached from the plane, and because the nightmares made her give up on anything resembling proper sleep. She unrolled her yoga mat, and took three deep cleansing breaths. She watched the sunrise, brilliant red and a little cruel over the city skyline.

_Empty your mind. Allison, you need to empty your mind. Put everything into boxes until you’re stronger._

At the best and worst of times, Allison heard her father’s voice. She felt his presence around her like a cloak, and sometimes, just sometimes she caught the scent of his cologne in the corners of her apartment. But, Chris was gone and she didn’t have the energy to grieve him anymore.

She stretched her arms far above her head, clasped them, and swayed to one side into a half-moon pose. She exhaled herself out of it, and desperately tried to exhale the images of the dead imbedded on the backs of her eyelids. She needed this. She needed to forget, to let go.

She slowly stretched her body, hands to toes, and let herself sway back and forth. She carefully took those people –Nathan Sanchez 33, Samantha Richardson 28, Vivian Patel 37 –and put them into boxes. She put them into beautiful, strong boxes and pushed them to the very darkest corners of her mind. She didn’t think she’d ever be strong enough to understand why they had to die.

She inhaled her way back into standing, and stretched clasped hands above her head once more. She arched her back, chest rising to face the sun, feet rooted into the ground. Allison was rooted. She was so much stronger than the ache in her bones.

She had to be stronger. She thought desperately. Allison had to be stronger.

~

_Seven years ago._

_“The thing is, though,” Allison slurred over her forth tequila shot.”The thing is. Michal wasn’t even that hot.”_

_“Nope,” Sarah unsteadily propped her head up on her hand and squinted at Allison. Sarah’s mascara was smeared underneath her eyes. Her hot pink lipstick was merely a smudge.  “Michal was kind of a loser.”_

_Allison nodded and hated herself for it because the entire room spun. “Michal was a terrible person.”_

_Sarah nodded and clutched her head. “Tequila is a terrible person.”_

_Allison giggled. “Tequila is not a person, Sarah.”_

_“No,” Sarah agreed. “But that’s a person over there. A very hot person. Very very hot person.”_

_Allison followed her friend’s pointed finger and grinned at the image of the man leaning against the bar._

_“That’s Derek!” she frowned heavily and shook her head at Sarah. “No, I’m wrong.”_

_“Wrong?” Sarah leaned forward. “He’s not Derek?”_

_“No,” Allison whispered. “His name is Jacob. Not Derek. He’s Jacob Hale.”_

_Sarah pushed weakly at Allison’s arm. “Go talk to Derek Jacob whatever. He’s so much hotter than Michal was. I bet you could bounce stuff off of his butt.”_

_Allison giggled her way to Jacob, who turned around at the sound, always wearing that dumb surprised look on his face._

_“Why,” Allison leaned in very close to Jacob, too close, and inhaled the sharp scent that always lingered around him. “Why do you always look so surprised to see me, Jacob?”_

_He laughed beautifully. Still too quiet, even in his joy.  “You are so drunk.”_

_“Thank you Doctor Obvious.” She frowned. “Captain Obvious?”_

_Sarah yelled across the bar, “Bounce stuff off of his butt! Like, quarters and stuff!”_

_Allison giggled at the surprised laugh that burst out of Jacob’s mouth._

_“You laugh so pretty,” she patted his face. “You should laugh all of the time.”_

_“Allison, do you and your friend have a ride home?” he frowned at himself. “I mean, do you guys have anyone to come pick you up?”_

_“I’d really much rather bounce things off of your butt.”_

_He snorted. Jacob was blushing so prettily underneath his beard, Allison wanted to trace the heated skin, see how far it went. “I think you’re really drunk right now and you should probably go home.”_

_“That’s my cue, I guess.”_

_Allison frowned at the woman and back at Derek. “That’s my roommate, Delilah.”_

_“Your very tired, very underappreciated roommate,” Delilah sighed. “Come on, babe. Let’s get you and Sarah home.”_

_Allison sighed crossly. “Fine. Good night, Derek.”_

_His head snapped up. “What did you call me?”_

_She smacked her forehead with a giggle. “I don’t know why I keep calling you that. Good night, Jacob.”_

_He shook his head, small confused smile on his lips. “Good night, Allison.”_

_Delilah gently tugged on Allison’s arm._

_“Wait, wait. He didn’t ask the question yet.”_

_Jacob’s face softened. He was so beautiful, Allison ached with it. “What question, Allison?”_

_“The happy one. You didn’t ask me if I’m happy.”_

_He closed his eyes and exhaled a shaky laugh. “Are you happy, Allison?”_

_She hummed. “I’m very happy, Jacob. I broke up with my loser boyfriend today.”_

_She walked out with the sound of his laughter ringing in her ears._

_“This time,” she yelled back. “This time you get to watch me leave!”_

_~_

Chris Tomas never told his daughter who her mother was, or where she was, or what the hell happened to her. He did his best to never speak of her but when he did, it was always bittersweet, always hurting. He’d say random things like “She liked her hair too short,” so Allison grew hers too long in an act of defiance against a woman she never knew.

 _She hated tattoos_. Allison lined every inch of her body –lined it with beautiful swirling lines, wolves chasing each other along her arms, the phases of the moon down her back.  There were swirls of black ink along her ribs, and two stark bands circling her left thigh.

 _She loved a good steak_. Allison stopped eating meat all together. Anything, absolutely anything to distance herself from the ghost of a woman that was supposed to be her mother.

She asked him once at 20, on break from school and in an alcohol driven rage: “Where the hell is she? Where is she, dad? Where the hell is my mother?”

He’d cried –her strong, stoic, stable father had cried like a child and broken her heart.

So she stopped asking.

Sometimes, it seemed like she’d stopped talking all together.

She stopped talking about the gaps in her memory. She stopped talking about the story-less scars littering her body. She stopped talking about the debilitating, soul-sucking sense of emptiness she’d sometimes feel. She stopped talking about the constant hyper-vigilance that started years before she’d become an agent, years before she’d even become a cop.

Allison learned too early in life that her problems were inconsequential and she moved on. 

She was born and raised in a city called Wilmington, just on the coast of North Carolina. If Allison missed anything, she missed watching the sunrise on her surfboard, and the crash of the waves lulling her to sleep every night.

She left her heart in New York, though.

She left it with the men and women of the NYPD, in the too busy streets and in the arms of Jacob Hale. Jacob who she saw every year, once a year, for four years –until she didn’t. Until he disappeared completely. She smiled, bittersweet, against the five year old memory.

_“Hey rookie, how’s that first arrest feel like?”_

_Allison hummed, tapped a finger to her chin. “Like you buying the first round for everyone, Sanchez.”_

_Freddy Sanchez’s laugh shook his entire body, and had the rest of the officers in tears with him. “Can you believe how she kicked that guy’s ass? He was twice her size, for fuck’s sake!”_

_They congratulated her, and Allison felt her face warm with all the attention. She felt at home with these people –despite their hardness, despite all that they’ve seen and done._

_“Hey Ally,” Maria Beltre, one of the officers Allison had trained with at the academy, leaned over with a dirty grin. “Six o’clock, tall dark and oh so broody is eating you out with his eyes.”_

_Allison sipped her drink, and casually turned to check out her admirer. She very nearly choked when she finally saw the man. The stranger’s angry expression softened when they made eye-contact. There was a heaviness in her stomach that had absolutely nothing to do with lust and everything to do with this impossible man._

_“Jesus,” Allison exhaled. “Jesus Christ. There is no way.”_

_Maria raised a brow. “You know ‘em?”_

_“Yeah,” Allison exhaled roughly. “Yeah, I know him.”_

_It was New York on him, she decided. That’s why seeing him this time around hit her so hard. New York fit him well, and he fit well there, leaning against the bar in his weathered leather jacket and the ever present softly surprised expression on his face._

_“He looks like a criminal,” Freddy set down the drinks and settled in with a huff, his good mood gone as fast as it had come. “I promise you he’s done time.”_

_“I promise you I don’t discriminate, ‘lotta good people do time.” Allison tipped back her drink and got up. She grinned hard when Maria smacked her ass and loudly proclaimed to the entire bar that her friend was gonna get laid tonight._

_Allison’s every footfall felt like finality itself._

_“Hey,” She cleared her throat and laughed lightly, nervous despite her earlier bravado._

_“Hey,” he replied with a surprisingly soft voice. “So, I heard you’re getting laid tonight.”_

_Allison snorted unattractively, “Here’s to hoping.”_

_He narrowed his eyes, “How old are you now anyways?”_

_Allison cocked a hip against the bar, and basked in the way his eyes traced the bare skin her shirt exposed. It was different this time. The air was heavy around them. “You’ve never bothered to ask before, but I’m 22.”_

_He exhaled roughly, dragging his eyes up her body, lingering at the neck of her low-cut shirt and back to her eyes. She never realized how ridiculous his eyes were, a too pale mix of blue and hazel circling the pupil._

_“Your hair looks nice,” he said, voice hoarse. He took a strand and gently curled it around his finger. She took a step closer, right into his personal space –she could only just feel his warmth._

_“What’re you doing in Brooklyn, Hale?”_

_He looked down at her with heavy lids, and slipped his hands gently around her waist. The tips of his ears were pink. “I’m here for a work seminar.”_

_“Oh,” she raised her brows in surprise. “What do you do?”_

_She was dizzy with how suddenly the ground underneath her had shifted, with how their brittle relationship had changed. “Not that you’ve ever asked, Tomas, but I teach kindergarten.”_

_“You’re kidding,” she breathed, mouth still too far from his jaw for her liking. He shook his head and slipped his thumbs under her shirt, and gently rubbed back and forth back and forth back—_

_She cleared her throat. “What’s the seminar about?”_

_Back and forth back and forth back forth, “_ _Developing the essential foundation for literacy success with kindergartners.”_ _She didn’t even have a chance to express her surprise properly._

_“What do you do?” he asked with a smug smile, like he knew exactly how her entire body had focused on the pinpoints of heat shifting across her lower abdomen. “You graduated, right?”_

_“I’m a cop,” she croaked and slipped her hands inside his leather jacket. He was built like a brick wall and she felt heat pool between her legs, she felt so damn empty it was killing her._

_Jacob took a deep breath and exhaled roughly into her neck. “I can believe that.”_

_She snorted through the haze. “Good to know.” She scarped her teeth across his jaw and rejoiced in the sound of his surprised huff. She wanted to suck marks into his skin._

_“Get a room, Tomas!” Maria cackled from across the bar. Allison grinned at Jacob despite the heat in her face and asked: “Yours or mine?”_

_“My hotel room is two blocks away,” he replied, quickly. She cupped his firm ass through his jeans and raised a brow, “Well, what’re you waiting for?”_

_He couldn’t drag her out of there fast enough._

_They’d barely made it into the room, before he’d dropped to his knees, and quickly made a job of her jeans. “Take off your shirt,” he rasped up at her, so she did, tossing it somewhere and quickly following it with her bra._

_He pressed his mouth to the lace of her panties –right on her clit– and sucked. She bucked against his mouth with a surprised gasp. “Jesus, s-slow down.”_

_He slipped off her underwear and then—_

_“Oh my god,” she exhaled as he grabbed her leg and maneuvered it over his shoulder –completely exposing her glistening folds. The door behind her, and his head between her legs, her hands fluttered and settled on his head. She twined the soft strands of his hair between her fingers._

_“God,” he exhaled, his hot breath making her clench. Empty, empty, so fucking empty. “You’re so beautiful.”_

_That wasn’t something you heard every day from someone who looked like Jacob, and it was absolutely heady. He pressed a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss right onto her, slipped his tongue between her folds and sucked on them –groaning like he’d never tasted anything like her._

_“G-god, oh my god” she groaned long and hard as he fucked his tongue into her, his beard scarping along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. “Please, please,please.”_

_Her hands tightened painfully in his hair, and he moaned –open-mouthed and filthy – tongue still inside of her, nose pressed against her clit. He slipped a finger in with his tongue, and crooked it just so, forcing her breath out of her in a breathy sob._

_“Harder,” she sobbed. “Jacob, Jacob please. Harder.”_

_At her words he slipped in a second finger, upped his pace ‘till he was fucking into her brutally, the wet sounds of his fingers and mouth on her sloppy and loud in the room. He pressed his mouth against her clit and sucked on it, while his fingers continued to make a wreck of her._

_For one moment, for one endless moment her breath rushed out of her and her entire body locked—_

_–and then her orgasm crashed through her like fire. She pressed her foot to his back and involuntarily bucked into his face. Jacob dutifully kept fingering her gently through the aftershocks._

_“Oh, my god.” She whispered, he gently withdrew his fingers and let her slide to the ground. “Oh, my god. You still have your clothes on.”_

_He grinned, wide and wolfish, as he licked his fingers clean._

_She reached for him with trembling hands, and a breathy laugh. “You gonna kiss me, Hale?”_

_He leaned towards her, predatory grin still in place, and pressed a single chaste kiss to her lips._

_“Hell no,” she replied. She slid into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed her mouth against his, filthy, sucking his tongue into her mouth. Wanting to taste herself on him. He groaned when she pulled at his top lip with her teeth, chasing the pain of it with gentle kisses all across his mouth. He slid his hands underneath her to grab her ass in his too large hands. His fingers just barely brushed against her hole, but the sensation had her rocking down against him, they groaned into each other’s mouths._

_“You gonna fuck me?” she asked, into his mouth. At her words he effortlessly stood up, she laughed and wrapped her legs around his waist. “You are stupidly strong.”_

_He softly set her down on the bed, “You have absolutely no idea, Allison.”_

_She laid herself down and spread her legs wide, effectively exposing her wet cunt. Her voice was hoarse when she said: “Show me, then.”_

_His eyes frantically ran over her entire body, as he quickly took off his clothes. He looked at her like he’d never seen anything like her. He looked at her like he’d never see her again._

_He rolled a condom onto his dick with trembling hands, and crawled towards her, expression heavy and awe-struck. “You’re so beautiful, Allison. You’re so god damn beautiful.”_

_She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him flush against her. She sighed into his mouth at the feeling of his bare skin on hers; she’d almost forgotten just how good sex could be. “You’re gonna give me a complex, Hale.”_

_He smiled, soft and private and pressed kisses to her stomach, ribs, circled her breasts and then pulled a nipple gently into his mouth. He looked up at her from beneath his thick lashes, too-pale eyes crinkling –that had her aching in a way that didn’t have a damn thing to do with sex. She groaned and scarped her nails across his scalp._

_“Lay down,” she ordered, and grinned at his dazed expression. “Come on, lay down.”_

_He barely laid down when she straddled his hips and pulled his cock into her. He groaned heavily, and bucked up once before controlling himself. That was exactly what she didn’t want. Allison wanted this ridiculous man, with his ridiculous bunny teeth and too kind eyes to completely fall apart –she wanted every part of him before he completely disappeared from her life._

_“Come on,” she whispered, rolling her hips. “Lose that control a bit.”_

_He shut his eyes tightly and let out a breathy laugh._

_She bounced and moaned loudly when he met her on the way down. She bent back, supporting her hands on his knees, and showed him just how filthy he looked sliding in and out of her._

_He made a sound akin to a growl, and suddenly he wasn’t inside of her anymore. He tossed her into her stomach, and pulled her back roughly into his chest._

_“You still want me to lose control, Allison?” he growled into her ear. She nodded, unable to speak for the suddenly debilitating ache of want, for the emptiness of not having him in her._

_He slid into her roughly, and fucked her like he knew exactly where her spot was. He slammed into her, mouthing at her neck with his teeth ‘till she sobbed out his name over and over again. He slid a hand between her legs, rubbed her clit with his thumb and felt where they met—_

_“Fuck,” she groaned, hands flying behind her to pull at his hair. “Fuckfuckfuck.”_

_“Come on,” he urged her. “Come on, Allison.”_

_So she did –her orgasm started where his cock and his fingers met. She never took herself for a screamer ‘till that day, ‘till she fucked herself on his fingers and cock, ‘till she ground her cunt into him. But, she screamed that day, moaned his name ‘till she couldn’t breathe._

_He pulled his hand away and slammed into her once, twice and sent flares of pleasure all over her spent body when he bit down on her shoulder to smother the sound of his low groan._

_“Fuck,” he whispered. Jacob’s voice was wrecked enough that she felt herself clench down on his softening cock. “Fuck, I’m sorry. That was too much.”_

_He pulled out of her ever so gently._

_She snorted, and let herself fall face first onto the bed. “I’m not.”_

_Allison heard the sound of him taking the condom off, tying it, and throwing it with dead accuracy into the trash. “Did I hurt you?”_

_“Nope,” she sighed, sated. The heaviness of sleep was only just weighing her down. She heard him get up and pad to the bathroom. He came back with a wet towel. She buried her face into the pillow to hide the blush creeping down her neck as he gently spread her legs and cleaned her up._

_“Did I pass?” she asked, as he settled down beside her._

_He snorted and pulled her towards his chest, “With flying colors.”_

_She laid her head just over his heart, “Do you really teach kindergarten?”_

_He laughed softly, and played with her hair. “Yeah. You really a cop?”_

_She pressed an involuntary kiss to his chest, “Yup.”_

_“Are you happy, Allison?”_

_She pulled herself up onto his chest to face him, nose wrinkled in confusion. “Why do you always ask me that?”_

_He cleared his throat, “I don’t think people ask that enough.”_

_She was silent for a beat. “Now or in general?”_

_“In general, I guess.”_

_“Yeah,” she replied, easily. “Yes, I’m happy. I’ve a got a good job. Good friends. I take care of my neighbor’s dogs sometimes. Sometimes I get sexed up really, really well.”_

_He snorted, hand still in her hair. “Good,” he replied, quiet. “Good. I’m glad you’re happy.”_

_She crinkled her nose again, “You’re so strange.”_

_He smiled softly and trailed feather soft fingers along her ribs, “I like this tattoo.”_

_It was one of her earlier acts of rebellion; she still remembered her father’s look of absolute horror when he saw it. The black ink swirled to form a triskelion, just along her ribs. She grinned tiredly, “Thank you; it’s one of my favorites.”_

_He watched her, a strange look passing across his handsome face._

_“It matches the one on your back,” she realized, surprise making her to prop up her chin onto his chest._

_“Yeah,” he laughed. He sounded sad. “Where’d you get the idea for yours?”_

_“A dream,” she replied distantly. “I had a dream. You?”_

_“I,” he started; his fingers trailed distracting lines up and down her spine. She took a moment to let herself sink into him, to breathe him in. To remember him. The whole night strangely felt like a goodbye. “I don’t remember, really. I’ve had it for years.”_

The next day she woke up to a still warm bed, coffee, and a note.

“I couldn’t miss my flight, and I didn’t want to wake you. Have a good life, Allison.”

It was signed Hale

She never saw him again.

When she left New York for Virginia and the FBI, she still hopelessly looked for him in everyone she met. It took her years to stop pausing whenever she caught a glance of dark hair, and a weathered leather jacket.

But, as those things go, she had to move on.

Allison quickly moved away from Criminal Forensics and became an expert in one thing: murder. She learned to view life from the eyes of serial killers, learned how they picked their victims, learned the intricacies of why they killed the way that they did.

Beacon Hills was once a criminologist’s wet dream. Over the last 50 or so years they’ve had things from cult murders, crazed revenge-driven teenagers, to entire families burning to the ground. Allison had been keeping up with the town since her days in New York, when the first of the triple murders had first started. Every two years, three people were killed –no connection, no evidence, not a damn thing giving the authorities any leads what so ever. Over the last 10 years, there had been 15 victims, too many outside interventions, and then nothing. It was like the world left little old Beacon Hills to fend for itself. For whatever cruel reason, the world stopped caring about Beacon Hills and wrote the town off –the reports of random suicides, murders, endless animals sightings stopped mattering.

But, Allison was obsessed. She needed to solve the case. She needed to get the town out of her system.

_~_

“Beacon Hills,” she muttered, darkly. For a town that had one too many unexplained murder cases, it sure was a bit too picturesque for her liking. “Beacon fucking Hills, what the fuck was I even thinking? Jesus Christ, I’ll die here.”

She felt a chill creep up her spine at those words, and remembered Maria, dramatic beautiful Maria, back at the NYPD: “Jesus, some fucker just walked over my grave.”  

She remembered reading one too many articles about officers that died here. She wondered again what the fuck possessed her to come here of all places in the world. Everything was too bright, from the sun to the leaves on the trees. The Sheriff’s department was an impressive structure against the blue of the sky.

 Allison walked in slowly, almost expecting an attack. She was met with the usual bustle of a Sheriff’s department –an old man yelling about those damn werewolves, a couple deputies arguing about last week’s game, a teenage boy with a sullen pout and handcuffs, and phones ringing off the hook.

“Can I help you, hon?” Allison spun to see a grinning receptionist. “You seem a bit lost.”

“I’m Agent Allison Tomas,” she replied in answer. “I’m here to see the Sheriff. He should be expecting me.”

“Gotcha,” she spun around in chair and called out in a booming voice. “STILES! A FED IS HERE TO SEE YOU! SHE’S HOT!”

“THAT’S SEXUAL HARASSMENT, JULIE!”

“CAN I SEND HER IN?”

“YES, PLEASE!”

She turn back to face Allison, sunny grin still in place. “Sorry ‘bout that, love. Our intercom system is broken. You can go on in.”

“Thanks,” Allison replied with a laugh. She started her way towards the Sheriff’s office when Julie called out to her.

“Oh, and Agent Tomas?”

“Yeah?”

Julie’s smile softened, “Welcome home.”

“But, I’m not—

Julie had already turned back to her work, soft smile still in place.

Allison shook her head, and turned back to the Sheriff’s office. The door was open but he was totally engrossed in the document in his hands, so much so that his glasses were nearly slipping off of his face.

“Fucking  bureaucrats.” He muttered, eyes quickly skimming the document.

 She frowned against the swooping feeling in her stomach, like she’d just missed the last step going down the stairs. The Director was right when she said he was young –his handsome face was only marred by the three thin scars that ran from temple to chin. They dragged his features down a bit, giving him a constant frown on the left side of his face.

 _I know him_ , Allison thought angrily. Why couldn’t she place him? Why the hell was her body readying itself for a fight?

“Please close the door, Agent.” He didn’t look up from the papers in his hands. “You’re here about the triple murders, am I correct?”

“You are,” she replied as she quietly shut the door. His head whipped up at the sound of her voice. She watched as the strangest mixture of emotions played on his face –grief, anger, suspicion and ending in a carefully structured façade of uninterested calm. It would have been fascinating to watch, if it weren’t for the tremble in her hands. If it weren’t for the sweat at the small of her back.

“I—

He was cut off by the door bursting open –they both flinched terribly, hands on their weapons –and Julie skipping in on light feet. She sucked her teeth loudly at their defensive postures and muttered something about cops and paranoia.

“Sheriff,” she smiled sweetly. “I need to tell you something important.”

“Can’t it—

“No.” she replied. Julie was much smaller than Allison thought before; her curly black hair barely skimmed Allison’s shoulders. “No, Stiles. It really can’t.”

The Sheriff groaned into his hands, muttered an apology, and left without looking Allison’s way. He closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in his glass-walled office.

“No,” Allison sighed. “No, you go on ahead. I don’t mind.”

She watched little Julie with her wild hair, and Sheriff Stilinski with his scarred face. Allison knew she wasn’t very good at lip reading, but the words she did catch didn’t make any sense.

_Calm down_

_It’s her—_

Allison squinted, missing bits and pieces.

_Need to call—_

That was an S? A name that started with an S?

 _You can’t,_ Julie shook her head. _She doesn’t know—_

Allison turned away, since the conversation was obviously private and willed her body to stop thrumming with panic. There was no rhyme or reason to it. It was irrational.

“Agent Tomas,” the door opened abruptly, and the Sheriff walked in. “Uh, you can work the case. You have access to anything you may need.”

She raised a brow, but he wasn’t look at her to see. She expected a hell of a lot more resistance from a man with Stilinski’s reputation.

“Just like that?”

“Yup.”

“Okay,” she replied quietly. “Thank you. I’ll update you with anything I find out.”

He looked up at her then, expression carefully controlled. “Be careful.”

“Careful of what, exactly?”

He shrugged, scarred mouth upturning on the right side with a rueful smirk. “This town has a habit of turning people into victims.”

“I’m no victim, Sheriff Stilinski.”

He looked at her for a long time, too long.

“No,” he cleared his throat roughly, and made his way to is desk. “No, you’re no victim.”

~

She walked out of the Sheriff’s department in a complete daze. The sun was almost blinding, the sky was too blue, there were fucking birds chirping and she couldn’t –god, she couldn’t stop shaking. Why were her bones cold? She felt like her skin didn’t fit right, and for the life of her couldn’t remember why she came to the damn town in the first place.

 _The case_ , she reminded herself harshly.  15 people are dead, and if she was right then 3 more people are going to die very soon. That’s why she’s here.

“Allison?”

She spun around, and found a woman with neat red hair staring at her with wide, panicked eyes.

“Yes?” Allison replied slowly, her hand staring towards her belt. The woman didn’t seem like she’d harm Allison –but there was something in the polished look of her pencil skirt and the contradicting look of alarm in her eyes that set Allison on edge and—

There was that feeling again, like she’d missed the last step. Like no matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t see the whole picture.

“Oh, my god. Look at you.” The woman exhaled. “You look so beautiful.”

“I--,” Allison started. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Realization dawned beautifully across the woman’s features, making her laugh breathlessly.

The day’s bullshit aside, the woman really was lovely.

“God, Ally.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Allison snapped, because the panic was back, because she couldn’t breathe. Because this entire town was suffocating her. “What am I missing? What is going on?”

The woman held a hand to her forehead, shut her eyes tightly and began muttering to herself. “I don’t know what to do. We never planned for this. I can’t believe I didn’t plan for this.”

Allison grabbed the woman’s arm –ignoring the loud voice in her head reminding her that this is how every one of those police brutality articles started –and looked her in the eyes, willed her entire body to make the woman understand the level of panic Allison has now reached.  

“What am I missing?”

The woman looked back at her, teary-eyed and so, so lovely. “I’m sorry. So very sorry.”

“Sorry?” Allison snapped. “What the hell are you sorry for?”

“This.”

There was something fine, and shimmery in the air.

Then, there was only darkness.

~

She heard the voices, but she might as well have been submerged underwater for their muffled quality. She willed herself to stay unmoving, asleep, and found herself uninjured. Relief almost overwhelmed her. The voice got louder, clearer, and her skin felt like ice.

“We need to call Scott and Derek. God, I can’t believe the one time they’re both not here and this happens.”

The panic that she’d tried so hard to keep at bay almost swallowed her whole because that was the Sheriff’s voice! If the fucking Sheriff was in on whatever the hell was going on, how was she supposed to get help? How was she supposed to get out of his?

“We can’t call them,” another voice, feminine and unrecognizable, spoke. “This initiation is the most important thing to happen to us in the last ten years. You know they’ll catch the first flight home if we tell them.”

“Kira,” the Sheriff spoke calmly but even Allison could detect the dangerous edge to his tone. “Allison is one of the most important people in Scott’s life. He deserves to know as soon as possible.”

“Stiles—

“Lydia, I’m literally so angry at you right know I can’t look at you, actually, stop looking at me. What the hell were you thinking—

“I panicked!” the woman, the lovely woman with the red hair, snapped back. “She knew that something was going on and she grabbed me and I didn’t know what to do!”

“No,” Stiles seethed. “Lydia, you know damn well that’s not what I’m angry about.”

“I’ll explain everything when Scott and Derek come home. Not before then.”

“Which, as I was saying –

“She’s awake,” another feminine voice sung lightly. “Awake and a little pissed off actually.”

Allison for the life of her couldn’t figure out how the woman knew that but sat up slowly nonetheless. She didn’t look at them as she inspected her body for injuries, and sneakily took in her surroundings. They’d taken her gun –both guns– all of her knives, even the one she hid between her breasts.

“We didn’t hurt you.” Lydia whispered. Allison ignored her.

She was on a couch, lumpy and used, and there was a soft throw in her lap. The room was dimming with the light of the setting sun. She was in a homely living room; there was even a steaming cup of tea to her right. Not what she expected considering she’d been kidnapped in broad daylight. She cleared her throat, and wished screaming would do her good.

“What’s,” she hummed against the rawness of her throat and tried again. Maybe she had been screaming. “Anyone care to explain what the hell is going?”  

There were was another man, other than the Sheriff, and he watched her with an expression that looked a lot like heartbreak on his pretty face. Big blue eyes watched her from beneath a heavy fringe of curls; his hands were crossed tightly across his chest.

“Anyone?” she asked again. “Anyone at all?”

One of the women leaned forward with suspicious eyes. “Are you sure it’s her, though? I mean, is her scent—

“It’s her.” The blue eyed man confirmed quietly. The Sheriff rolled his eyes.

“It’s definitely her, Malia.”

She shrugged indifferently, “I didn’t know her.”

“I’m right here, asshole.”  

Malia grinned, completely unperturbed.

Allison decided she could take Lydia, most definitely, but there was something solider-like about the way the other two women held themselves. The Sheriff might have been slight but his rolled up shirt sleeves revealed scarred, muscled forearms. The blue eyed man lounged against the wall, at complete ease, and that alone told her she’d never be able to fight her way out of here.

She took a deep breath. No need for panic. No need for panic. No need for panic—

“Well? What happens now?” Malia snapped impatiently. “Lydia, did you think past blowing your fairy dust in her face?”

Lydia arched a brow, tone icy “I’d watch your tone with me, Tate.”

“Right, yeah, no.” The Sheriff snapped. “As entertaining as your sexual tension usually is, now is not the time. “

Both women turned to glare at him. The blue eyed man sighed heavily and muttered “I texted Derek and told him.”

“ _What!?_ ”

He didn’t even look up from inspecting his nails. “They should be home soon.”

~

Werewolves. _Werewolves._

“That’s the stupidest shit I have ever heard. Ever.”

Stiles threw his hands up and walked away.

“Is it, though?” Lydia snapped, finally at her wits end. “Allison, do you have a scar on your stomach?”

“Screw you.” Allison laughed. “I was out cold for how long? You took the knife I kept in my bra. You definitely saw the scar on my stomach.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, despite the tiny smile playing at her lips. “Where’s Chris?” Allison flinched away. The blue eyed man –Isaac, she learned– frowned heavily from his position.  

“Allison, where’s Chris?” he repeated, gently.

“Car accident,” she croaked. “Six months.”

Stiles stumbled and settled too heavy next to her. “Jesus, Ally, I’m sorry.”

She frowned, “What did you call me?”

“Hm?”

“Ally?”

“Oh,” he laughed on an exhale. “Ally A saves the day. It was a joke. You used to kick ass a lot.”

“When I lived here.” She replied in deadpan. “Before, you know, I died and was magically brought back and had all my memories erased.”

“Speaking of magically being brought back,” Stiles pointedly turned back to Lydia.

“No,” She snapped. “Not until they’re home.”

Kira lounged on the loveseat, a smug little smile on her pretty face. “I like the tattoos though, especially the one with the tails.”

Allison narrowed her eyes. “Thank you?”

“I’m the kitsune, remember?” she grinned. “You and I kicked ass in the boys’ locker room, once.”

“ _What._ ”

Stiles groaned into his palms. “Leave her alone, Kira.”

“She probably dreamed about it,” Lydia mumbled, seemingly to herself. “About everything that happened.”

Allison clenched her jaw because these were the last people she wanted to discuss her nightmares with and looked at Malia. “You seem to care the least about all of this.”

Malia grinned and shrugged, “No offense. I didn’t really know you and I don’t really care about you.”

“None taken.” Allison took them in. “So, what do you guys do? I know Stilinski’s the Sheriff.”

 Stiles pointed at Lydia, “Lawyer,” and grinned hard when Allison snorted. Lydia gave them the finger with an impassive expression.

“Malia’s in the Navy.” He went on. “Kira teaches mixed martial arts. Isaac manages a halfway house for criminal offenders.”

She nodded. “Weird group to come together and decide to kidnap a federal agent.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I can’t wait ‘till Deaton calls us back so you can get your memories back and stop acting like a giant baby.”

“Yeah, whatever. You’re insane.” Allison sighed. “What about the mysterious Scott and Derek? What do they do?”

“Scott’s a nurse,” Stiles smiled softly. “But he’s studying so he can go back and become a doctor.”

Allison took in the way his entire face changed at the mention of Scott. “Are you and him?”

“Married.” He laughed. “Yeah.”

She grinned. “Kids?”

“One,” he replied, happily. “She’s with my dad right now.” A look of horror came on his face at the mention of his dad. “Shit, Dad’s gonna be so pissed when he finds out about this, Lydia.”

 Lydia’s pretty face paled. “He’ll understand when I explain it to him.”

Kira chewed on the inside of mouth. “He was really torn up about Allison. Like, devastated.”

“So was I.” Isaac whispered. “So was Scott. So was Stiles.”

The air crackled around them.

“Isaac,” Lydia whispered. “Isaac, I’m so sorry.”

“I came to you,” Isaac whispered, and just like that his careful composure fell apart. “I came to you for months, Lydia, crying and blaming myself! You didn’t think you could, I don’t know, mention it? She died for me, Lydia! She died so I could fucking live!”

Malia and Kira stood up with matching stony expressions, dropping into defensive postures. Stiles maneuvered his body so that he was blocking Allison from Isaac’s view. Lydia stood up and walked towards Isaac, and for whatever reason, Allison wanted to drag her back into safety.

“I couldn’t—

Isaac honest to god _roared_. His face contorted and changed and Allison’s heart was going to beat out of her chest. She was going to die here. Lydia’s voice shook, but she didn’t back down –or even flinch for that fucking matter. “Isaac, I swore an oath to Chris. I bound it with blood, I literally couldn’t. I still can’t –I can only tell Scott what happened. There’s nothing I can do.”  

Isaac’s breath heaved out of him painfully –his brow was still distended, animalistic in its quality. Allison felt her hands tremble. Beside her, Stiles was eerily still, hand on his holster.  He’d shoot him, she thought hysterically. If it came down to it, Stiles would actually shoot him.

“Isaac,” Lydia whispered again. “Isaac, come back.” 

He groaned and launched himself into Lydia’s arms. Allison watched as Isaac stuffed his face into the crook of Lydia’s neck to muffle his sobs. She watched as Lydia rubbed his back and muttered “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Over and over.

Allison turned to Stiles with wide eyes, looking for an explanation, answers, anything to make sense of what she just saw. He snorted, and relaxed beside her like this was an everyday thing.

“The first time you found out about werewolves,” he spoke casually, like they were discussing the fucking weather. “You cried, got mad at yourself for crying and got over it.”

“I got over the fact that werewolves exist? Just like that?”

He held her gaze, “A lot of things happened between you finding out and you being okay with it, but yeah. Just like that.”

She laughed, exhausted beyond measure. Something, somewhere, clicked into place. “Sounds like me.”

~

“Does that happen a lot?”

Isaac was gone. Kira had taken his hand and whispered something about milkshakes and he’d smiled softly at her and went away with a single, sad glance back.

“Hm?” Stiles blinked groggily. Malia was curled up in the loveseat, fast asleep.  Lydia’s eyes were closed, but Allison knew better. “Does what happen a lot?”

“Isaac,” Allison explained. “Does he lose control like that a lot?”

Stiles was silent for too long. “When Derek turned him—

“I thought Scott was the Alpha?”

She bit her lip. She’d kept up with their story a lot closer than she’d let them believe.  

Stiles grinned knowingly, “He is. Derek was the Alpha back then.”

“Oh.”

The names and dates and events whirred messily in her head. It didn’t make sense. They had been sixteen, they were children and it broke her heart.

“Yeah,” Stiles rubbed his face tiredly, and went on. “Isaac had a rough life, and Derek –god, Derek was a mess back then. Scott kind of, I don’t know, he—

“He brought balance.” Lydia supplied, opening her eyes.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded. “Scott brought balance to our lives, by helping Derek and Lydia and Malia –everyone, really. He helped Isaac as much as he could and things were good for a while, really good, but when you died—

Allison’s heart squeezed painfully. God, she was tired.

“—When you died, it kind of just, threw everything out of order, like the world didn’t make sense anymore. It was just chaos.” He wasn’t with them anymore, eyes far away. “Even the earth mourned you, Allison.

She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to feel.

He cleared his throat roughly. “Scott left for a while.”

“God,” Lydia closed her eyes again, sad smile on her lips. “I remember that. You went after him. Where’d he go? Somewhere in South America.”

“He went to Cora.” Stiles hummed, eyes distant again. “Bad times for everyone. Scott came back but Isaac couldn’t come to terms with your death because—

“I died saving him?” Allison couldn’t even drudge up the energy to act like she didn’t believe them anymore. She didn’t know if she didn’t believe them. She didn’t know what to believe.

“Yeah,” Stiles held her gaze. “You died saving him. Us. Even when you were gone, you were saving us.”

Allison didn’t reply. They didn’t speak for a long time. Before long, Stiles dozed off, his face pressed into her shoulder, she didn’t move him.

“Why haven’t you tried to leave?” Lydia whispered.

Allison frowned. She hadn’t even thought of escaping.

They let the question hang in the air between them.

~

“They’re here.”

Allison only realized that she’d fallen asleep when Malia’s voice startled her awake. Stiles jumped to his feet, swaying as the blood rushed away from his head.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Allison, this is gonna be bad. So, so bad.”

Malia bent over Lydia, and whispered something into her ear that had the other woman startling awake. Stiles reached out for Lydia’s hand. He offered his other hand to Allison, and god help her, she took it.

“Okay,” Lydia took a deep breath. She had pillow impressions on her cheek, and mascara smudged under her eyes. “I have a confession.”

“Now?” Stiles groaned, eyes wide and panicked. “ _Now?_ ”

“Derek knows.” She whispered, as the foot falls came closer. “Derek already knows. Allison met him actually.”

Allison blanched. “What? No, I didn’t.”

Lydia held her gaze. She looked so sad. “You know him as Jacob.”

Allison opened her mouth but no sound came out.

“I’m sorry.” Lydia whispered. “I am so sorry.”

She didn’t think her heart was working anymore. Honestly, even if she’d somehow drudged up the energy to speak, there was no more time for words. The door burst open and a man came stumbling in.   

The man’s hair was wild and curly around his head. He had a beard and crooked glasses—

There was a brightness like nothing she’d ever experienced and then she was bombarded with image after image after image. She saw it all. She remembered it all.

“Oh, my god.” Allison whispered. “I can’t breathe.”

~

She woke up to yelling.

“Lydia, how could you?” Scott. That was Scott yelling and her heart hurt because she knew he was crying. She didn’t feign sleep this time, but quickly sat up with a low groan. She was on the couch again; her head had been pillowed on Stiles’ lap.

Stiles gently pushed her hair out of her face, and whispered “Take it easy.”

“Allison,” Scott croaked. He fell to his knees in front of her. His hands were raised like he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch her.

“Hi,” she whispered. She reached for his hand and laced their fingers together. “Hi, Scott.”

“You remember,” Lydia had tear streaks ruining her makeup and her hair was messily escaping her once sleek bun. Allison wondered how long she’d been asleep for this time. “Oh my god, you remember.”

Allison frowned. Her mind was sluggish with the overload of memories. “I do. How do I remember?”

“Scott,” Lydia exhaled, and dropped heavily onto the couch. “Scott brings balance. Seeing him must’ve triggered the repressed memories.”

Scott started crying. He pressed his face into Allison’s stomach to muffle the terrible sound of his sobs.

“I’m so angry at all of you,” his voice broke. Allison reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. She didn’t have the words to make this okay, or better, or hurt any less.

Right then, Derek stepped out of the shadows. Everything shifted back to where it belonged. She was Allison Argent. She was Allison Tomas. She was two parts of a whole.

Jacob. Derek. Jacob. Derek.

_Derek._

“Oh,” she sighed. He smiled sadly.

“Hello, Allison.”

“Hello, Derek.”

Stiles and Lydia glanced between them, eyes sharp and perceptive.

“Maybe,” Stiles started, slow and cautious “Maybe you guys could fill us in? How did this happen?”

Kira and Isaac stepped into the room and settled down. Everyone found a seat somewhere, ready for some sort of explanation. Lydia closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“When Allison died.” Her voice broke terribly. She shut her eyes tightly, and pressed a hand to her mouth. They watched as she struggled through it, through the memories and the pain. Allison let her own tears drip down her shirt.

Lydia took a deep breath and started again, firmer this time. “When Allison died, I made a decision. If I could bring someone back once, then I could do it again.”

She picked at the thread of the couch. “Only this time it was harder. It wasn’t like Peter; Allison had accepted her death and moved on. So, I—

Lydia clenched her jaw. Seconds ticked by in silence. They waited. They waited. They waited.

 “So, I planned to kill Gerard to bring her back.”

Everyone turned to Scott with wide, waiting eyes. He pressed his palms to his face, completely silent. Lydia got up and padded towards him on bare feet. She pulled his hands away and stared him down with haunted eyes.

“I know,” her voice warbled. “I know, and I am not sorry. Scott, I’m not sorry that he had to die so she could live. I’m not. I don’t care what that makes me.”

“We’re supposed to be better than them,” he whispered. “We’re supposed to do better.”

“I couldn’t let her die.” Lydia replied, firmly. Allison wondered how long it had taken her to come to terms with what she’d done. Allison wondered how she’ll ever repay her for it. “Not Allison, Scott. Never Allison.”

“It wasn’t just Lydia.” Derek ran a rough hand through his hair. Allison’s heart clenched at the sight of him. He had grey hair at his temples. God, he was still so beautiful.

Lydia smiled, and took her seat back next to Derek. “I knew I couldn’t pull it off. So, I went to Derek.”

“I killed Gerard.” He said it firmly. He said it to Scott.

Scott laughed humorlessly. “I don’t if I’m angrier at what you two did or the fact that you’ve looked me in the eye for nearly ten years and lied.”

“You’re a good man,” Derek replied. “You didn’t need to live with what Lydia and I choose to do.”

Scott looked at Derek with sad eyes, and Allison knew there’d be forgiveness there. In time, Scott would forgive it all.

“Go on.”

Allison laced her fingers through Scott’s again, and sent him what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

“The spell we cast was different than the one Peter used.” Lydia’s eyes were far away. “Peter’s very presence was an imbalance in the Universe.”

Malia snorted loudly. Allison grinned. “Where is Peter, anyways?”

“Alaska,” Malia replied, darkly. Allison decided that a story for another day.

“Allison was pure,” Lydia went on as if there’d been no interruption. Stiles made a disbelieving noise that had Allison elbowing him roughly. “She was selfless. She gave a lot to the Universe, so the Universe naturally wanted her back. We needed Chris to be there, as a tether for her soul. So she could know how to come back to us.”

“Chris,” Derek sighed. “Chris wouldn’t help until we swore that we wouldn’t tell anyone what we did.”

“But _why?_ ” That was Isaac; his lovely face was stricken and sad. “We were her family too.”

“We were,” Lydia whispered. “But he wanted her safe, away from Beacon Hills. So we agreed. Allison alive somewhere in the Universe is better than not at all.”

Allison uselessly swiped her hands across her face, she couldn’t stop crying.

“I remember,” she whispered—

_Her senses returned, one by one. First, it was the silk soft touch of the dress she was wearing. Then, it was the petrichor smell of the air. Then, it was the sound of Lydia’s crying._

_“Oh, god.” Allison heard. “Oh, god, Derek. I don’t think it worked. I don’t think she’s coming back. I fucked up, oh my god.”_

_“Lydia,” Derek whispered urgently. “Lydia, she’s fine. She’s waking up.”_

_She opened her eyes then, and was greeted with the rare sight of Derek’s smile. His teeth gleamed bright in the night._

_“Hello, Allison.”_

_“Hello, Derek.”_

_Derek gently helped Allison out of her coffin. Her coffin. Allison’s coffin. Oh god._

_Lydia threw herself into Allison’s arms, she somehow seemed smaller than Allison remembered. She distantly wondered how much time had passed._

_“Lydia,” Allison whispered into her best friend’s hair. “Lydia, look at me.”_

_Lydia did. “Lydia, I died. What did you do?”_

_“It doesn’t matter,” Lydia pressed a chaste kiss to Allison’s lips. “You’re going be okay. We’ll check up on you every once in a while. We’ll make sure you’re happy and safe, I swear.”_

_“Lydia, what are you—_

_“Allison,” Derek stepped forward and embraced her in a surprising gentle hug. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry for everything.”_

_“Derek, why are you apologizing?”_

_There was a soft, shimmery dust and then there was nothing._

“I reconstructed Allison’s memories.” Lydia went on heavily. “I made up this entire life for her. I covered up every memory she had of us. I obviously didn’t do as great of a job as I’d hoped.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The tattoos,” Lydia smiled tiredly. “You have us all tattooed on your skin.”

Allison looked down at her arms with new eyes, and laughed.

“Oh god,” she laughed. She knew from the silence that she sounded as unhinged as she felt. She knew she was crying again. “Oh, my god. Oh, my god.”

~

She stood stock still as the rain beat down on her.

She knew that was Derek standing right outside of the line of her vision. She knew it just as she knew werewolves existed. She knew it just as she knew that her life would never be the same.

“I’m Allison Argent,” she whispered because she didn’t need to raise her voice. “Derek, I’m Allison Argent.”

She felt the heat of his skin through her drenched clothes.

“I am Allison Argent.” She wondered if she was crying again. “But, I’m Allison Tomas. I’m Allison Tomas, too.”

“You are,” he replied.

“And _you_ ,” she spun around to face him. He was still beautiful. He was still so damn beautiful. A sob built up in her throat. “You’re not Jacob.”

“I’m Derek,” he smiled, so broken, so sweet. “I’m Derek Jacob Hale.”

 “Derek Jacob Hale,” She laughed, sobbed –she didn’t know. “I fell in love with you, you know.”

His jaw clenched. “I was unfair to you, Allison. If you’d known who I was—

“We’d have found our way there,” she interrupted. “Someday, somehow.”

He stared at her. Stupid, beautiful, softly surprised look on his face.

She laughed. She felt like there was fire in her bones. “Don’t you get it? Derek, what’re the chances of me coming here again? What’re the chances of this happening?”

“Zero to none,” he replied, hesitant smile on his beautiful mouth.

“I’m in love with you.” Allison announced to the world. “I know there’s a lot to figure out. I know there’s a lot of shit to shift through but for the first time in years I feel alive. I feel whole. Derek Jacob Hale, I am in love with you and I really—

He cut her off, pressing his lips to hers and fuck, _fuck_ it was the best sort of cliché. Them, there, in the shrouded in the darkness of the night, drenched to the bone from the rain. She savored the taste of him on her mouth, she’d missed that taste for too many years.

“I love you too,” he rasped against her mouth. “Allison, I love you too.”

~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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